


i need a flashlight to get out of this closet

by misura



Category: Invisible Man (TV 2000)
Genre: M/M, Mostly Dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-09
Updated: 2012-12-09
Packaged: 2017-11-20 17:37:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/587984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"You know what your problem is, Fawkes?"</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>"Oh, this should be good."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	i need a flashlight to get out of this closet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zhiverny6](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zhiverny6/gifts).



> a modest-sized treat, because the world can always use some more Darien-Fawkes banter.

_They say that hindsight is always 20/20. And you know what? I think that's about right._

_What they don't say, is that sometimes,_ fore _sight is 20/20, too._

_Or, at least, it could be._

 

"You know what your problem is, Fawkes?"

"Oh, this should be good."

"Women."

"What?"

"Yeah. I mean, it always turns out they're evil, and then you go and do something stupid and then you go and do something stupider, as in: lying about it. To me, even. You feeling me here?"

"My problem is that women are evil. _All_ women."

"Not _all_ women. Just, you know, the ones that got that special something. Giving the old gland a bit of a work-out."

"Is there anything you can _not_ make sound dirty?"

"It's a gift, my friend, and I embrace it proudly."

"Yeah. You do that. I'm going to take a nap."

"Closing your eyes to it isn't going to make the truth go away, Fawkes."

 

The thing was: it was stupid. Well, it was _Hobbes_ , so maybe not _stupid_ , exactly, just ... wrong. Paranoid. Jumping to conclusions with only minimal evidence.

"Kate."

"Sorry, what was that?"

"Kate wasn't - _isn't_ evil."

"One word. Twenty. Million. Dollar."

"Pretty sure that's more than one word. And it's not as if she stole it."

"No. Of course not. She give it back?"

"It was _stocks_. Or something."

"Right. Or something. So that money just whoosh! Appeared out of thin air. No harm, no foul."

"Well, yeah. I mean, that's how it works, right?"

"I read the Financial Times. Do you?"

"No."

"Twenty million out of thin air? Not harmless, my friend. Not harmless. She was cute, though."

"Yeah."

"Too smart for you. I mean, you go out with someone, you want them to be on the same level, you know? You want to say A, and then they go B, and you go C. A connection. You don't want to say A, and then have them tell you about how that's a derivative of E squared times pi, know what I mean?"

"She wasn't - there definitely was a connection."

"You ever made twenty million?"

"Well, I made five. Once. Almost."

"See?"

"She was cute."

"Nice ass."

"Okay, I'm going to change the subject now."

"All right."

"The Financial Times? Really?"

"Just the comics. They're good."

 

"So Hobbes has got a theory. About me."

"Does he, now."

"Yeah. Apparently, my problem is that I only like women who are evil."

"Interesting. Did he suggest a solution?"

"No."

"Maybe he thinks you'll figure it out by yourself."

"Figure _what_ out by myself? I mean, it's crazy. It's Hobbes."

"Out of the mouths of babes and madmen ... "

"All right, what about you?"

"Me? You want to know if I, too, am attracted to women who are not entirely moral?"

"No, I mean: are _you_ evil? Because you know I like you."

"Do you? Really, Darien?"

"Of course I like you. Well, maybe not 'like you' like you. Just ... like you."

"If I were you, I'd leave it there."

"Quit while I'm ahead?"

"Yes. I do believe that would be prudent. And ... think about it."

 

"What are you wearing?"

"It's called a shirt, Fawkes."

"I know what it's called. It's very ... pink."

"Makes my eyes pop, doesn't it? Little bit too much, maybe? Blinded by the glory that is Bobby Hobbes wearing a shirt that's making his eyes pop?"

"Yeah, I'm going to go with 'no'."

"It's all right, pal, you can admit it. I put on this shirt, it's whoa! Know what I mean? Gets all the ladies looking, and some of the guys, too. The ones with taste, anyway."

"I don't doubt that for a moment."

"Yeah. It's a burden, I'm telling you. Man shouldn't be allowed to look this good. That's why I usually take it easy. Keeping it cool. All on the down low."

"So what's the occasion?"

"Excuse me?"

"For the shirt. Why are you wearing it today? Someone special you're trying to impress?"

"Okay, first, there's no 'trying', all right? I dress to impress, I impress."

"Yes, Master Yoda."

"Who?"

"It's the small, green guy from - "

"Star Wars. Yes, Fawkes. Very good. Let me impart on you a little wisdom here. It's not cool to like Star Wars. Unless! Unless the other guy likes it, too. Part of the bro code. Oh, and if you're with a chick, never, ever, _ever_ mention you'd like to see her in a golden bikini. It's sexist."

"So it's okay if it's a guy?"

"I could pull off a golden bikini."

"Thanks for the mental image there, Hobbes. Really."

"What is it with you today? You don't like my shirt, you don't like me in a bikini - bad time of the month?"

"You know, I think I'm just not getting enough sleep."

"Ah. You know, you do get cranky when you don't get enough rest. Irritable. I've noticed that about you."

"Yeah."

"So what's keeping you up?"

"I don't want to talk about it. Could you just - "

"Oh, sure."

"Thank you."

 

"So how did things work out with the shirt?"

"What shirt?"

"The - your special shirt. The one that made your eyes pop."

"Fawkes, look at me. You think I need some shirt to make my eyes pop? Huh?"

"No?"

"No. Exactly. These eyes - they're poppin'. Windows to the soul."

"Yeah."

"I'm serious. Go on, try it. Look deeply into my eyes."

"This is kind of - "

"You gonna be a wuss here, Fawkes? One of those big, strong macho types who're afraid to talk about their feelings?"

"I'm feeling like a coffee. Are you feeling like a coffee?"

"No, I'm not feeling like a coffee. Know what I'm feeling like? A guy whose partner doesn't trust him. That hurts, Fawkes. Really, it does. I thought we had something going here."

"Is this about ... ?"

"What?"

"Seriously, Hobbes."

"What?"

"I don't need you to worry about my dating life."

"That's where you're wrong."

"No."

"Partners, Fawkes. Friends. I'm doing this for your own good."

"Fine, I'll play. What, exactly, is going to happen if I look deeply into your eyes? What, you're going to hypnotize me? Is that the plan?"

"No, of course that's not the plan. C'mon, Fawkes. Everybody knows there's no such thing as hypnosis. It's all bogus. Staged. Some poor guy getting paid ten bucks an hour to cluck like a chicken."

"So then what's the plan?"

"Simple. I'm getting you hooked up with someone. You're happy, 'cause I can guarantee they're not evil. They're happy, 'cause you know, you're not such a bad guy. Everybody's happy."

"And us looking deeply into each other's eyes comes into this how?"

"Well, it's what people in love do, right? I read the books, I know how it works. Kissing - might be something, might be nothing. Talking - again, could go either way. But when there's soulful gazing going on - then, my friend, you know you've got the real thing. That's true love, going on right there."

"Hobbes. I don't think that's how it works."

"Then what have you got to lose? Nothing happens, fine. No harm, no foul."

"You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"I'm like a bloodhound, Fawkes. A pitbull."

"Fine. Let's do this."

"Bring it."

...

"Anything?"

"Do you mind?"

"Pushy. So I guess it wasn't the looking after all."

"I think Cher wrote a song about that."

"Huh. So is that a gun in your pocket, or are you suddenly happy to see me?"

"Hobbes. I'm almost always happy to see you."

" _Almost_ always?"

"Well, you're annoying sometimes."

"A real sweet-talker, aren't you, Fawkes?"

"I do my best."


End file.
